Read Roommates (Soulmates #1) Online
Authors: Hazel Kelly
I was checking the location of my leads on Google Maps when he
called, and the flutter of warmth I felt in my chest when his name popped up on
the screen made me want to doodle his name in pink pen.
"How's the head?" he asked.
"Pretty useless."
"You back in bed?"
My eyes grew wide. Did he really think I would just lounge
around in his bed when he wasn't here?
How inappropriate would that be?!
More inappropriate than the fact that I'd smelled his pillow
that morning?
"No." Or was I in his bed? Was the couch his bed now?
"I've been scouring the internet to find out what other casting calls are
going on and-"
"Any joy?"
I shrugged. "Some. It's hard to tell if I'm not familiar
with the production. For example, one of the shows sounds really vague. I think
I'd be auditioning for the roll of some sort of spice?"
"Like frankincense and myrrh or more like baby and
scary?"
"The former, actually. And I didn't realize you were a fan
of the Spice Girls?"
"I'm not," he said. "I only know that because they
came into the club last fall."
"Damn. Really?"
"Yeah. I could barely contain my excitement."
I smiled. "What did they drink?"
"Would you rather I make something up or admit that I don't
remember?"
"Mmm. I suppose the truth is better."
"Always or-"
"Always," I said, feeling like a huge hypocrite.
"Well then- while we're on the topic of honesty- I have
some good news."
"I could use some," I said. "Can I guess?"
What was I twelve? Was I just that desperate to keep him on the phone?
"Sure."
"You've found a cure for hangovers?"
"I'm afraid the closest I've gotten is that drink I made
you this morning."
I pursed my lips. "You won the lottery and you’re dying to
produce my first indie flick."
"You got a script?"
"No."
"I never produce without a script."
I sighed.
"You got us tickets to Wicked."
"Seriously?"
I scrunched my face.
"Do you really think that's what it is?"
"A girl can dream."
"You like musicals?"
"I like live theater of any kind."
"I bet you a million dollars that you don't."
I craned my neck back. "What kind of show wouldn't I
like?"
"I don't even know where to start. Vagina Olympics in
Bangkok, sex shows in Amsterdam-"
My face dropped.
"The cat circus in Moscow."
"That last one sounds okay."
"It's not. It's totally not okay."
My lips fell apart.
"Have you ever even met a cat?" he asked.
"Fine. I owe you a million dollars."
"I know," he said. "But I'll waive the fee on one
condition."
"I’m listening."
"Have dinner with me."
"Dinner?"
"Yeah. I took tonight off work to spend time with you.
Seems like the least I could do if you don't know how long you're sticking
around."
I swallowed.
"Besides, I don't have any food in the fridge, which I'm
sure you noticed. So what do you say?"
"Okay."
"Great."
I furrowed my brow. "Is that the good news? That we're
going out to eat?"
"Not officially."
"What's officially the good news?"
"It's a two-parter."
I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees. "Go on."
"Part one is that I didn't go beat the shit out of that pervert
that upset you yesterday."
"What?"
"I thought about it, and I was pretty close, but I decided
committing murder on a sunny Friday morning wouldn't be as gratifying in real
life as it was in my imagination."
"I'm glad you made the right decision."
"He's still on my shit list, though, so if you start having
nightmares of something-"
"I'll let you know."
"Good."
"Is that it then? The good news is that you decided to be a
mature adult for two seconds and not use violence to solve problems that aren't
even yours."
"Actually, it gets better."
"Gee. I don't know if anything could be better than the
fact that you're not calling from prison, but try me."
"I got you a lead."
"A lead?"
"More like a meeting. With a real agent."
"An agent?"
"Yeah. My buddy's uncle runs a place in Midtown, and he's agreed
to meet with you.
"Wow."
"Not too shabby for a hungover half day's work."
"Not at all," I said. "That is good news."
"So I’ll take you somewhere fancy, and we'll celebrate over
steaks."
I cocked my head. "Will it be so fancy we won’t be able to
order biscuits as a starter?"
"Of course. Unless you're homesick, in which case I believe
there's a Bob Evans in Buffalo."
"That's okay. I think I can last a while longer
without."
"Great. Then I know just the place."
"This is all really nice of you, Ethan, but it's not
helping me feel like I'm not imposing."
"That's your problem. Not mine."
"And I feel a bit awkward knowing you've been worrying
about me since you left the apartment."
Silence.
"Not to call you out."
"That's exactly what you did."
I smiled. "You can make up for it by not thinking about me
at all until dinner."
"Sounds easy enough. Deal."
"Text me the address, and I'll meet you there."
"I’d rather send a car and call you when it's
outside."
"Okay."
I hung up the phone and set it down.
What if Brandi was right?
I thought about the kiss and the way he'd joked about it
yesterday over drinks.
What if his heart wasn't in being just my stepbrother? What if
it never had been?
Any idiot could see how amazing he was. He was funny, smart, and
tough as he was sexy. Plus, he had a cool job in a cool place.
But why would he be into me?
I understood the attention when I was fourteen. I was weird.
Other. I stuck out like a sore thumb. Or at least, that's why I always thought
he stared.
But there were years then when he hardly spoke to me at all. Why
would he have treated me like that for so long? Because he liked me when he
shouldn't have?
Part of me wanted to believe Brandi was full of shit.
After all, it wouldn't be the first time. She was notorious for
looking for drama where none existed, but I don't think she would do that with
my life.
Sure, she might roast me royally behind closed doors, but she'd
bent over backwards to keep me from looking stupid when we were growing up. If
she had any doubt about Ethan's feelings, she wouldn't tease me or egg me on.
That wasn't like her.
And what if this trip really was my last chance to figure out what
we actually meant to each other?
I mean, if I let my guard down and he sensed it, there were only
two things that could happen.
Either he'd get freaked out, in which case I’d laugh my
flirtation off as a joke and let the weirdness dissipate over the following
days.
Or, he'd take the chance I gave him with both hands, and I’d
finally get to find out if the years of sexual frustration I'd endured were
based on something deeper than simply wanting what I thought couldn’t have.
And, to be honest, the possibility of option two excited me so
much I knew it was worth considering.
Now I just had to decide what to wear.
I tightened my hand around the yellow daisies and then loosened
my grip.
I'd done it so many times I was surprised I hadn't torn the
plastic cover around the stems.
"Would you like another-?" The bartender nodded at my
drink.
"No, thanks," I said, looking down at my half full
beer. Who did this clown think he was? It was way too early to start pushing
drinks on people.
However, it was definitely not too early for Jenny to walk
through the door.
I hoped she would like the place. It was classy and dark, but
not too stuffy.
And it was the least I could do to take her somewhere half
decent after drowning her in cheap margaritas and finger food last night.
I exhaled and put my elbows on the bar. What was it about her
that made me so crazy?
On one hand, I'd love if she got that hammered again because she
was so fun when she let her guard down, when she didn't read too much into it
when I gave her a compliment.
On the other hand, it had taken every ounce of restraint I had
last night not to kiss her again, not to run my hands over her hips and pull
her close. And I knew well enough to know that I was no saint or superhero. It
was unlikely that I could display that kind of control again, especially two
nights in a row.
Then again, what if I did kiss her? What was the worst thing
that could happen?
She might slap me. Or never speak to me again. It's not like
that would be all that terrible.
After all, it would be better than if she never laid a hand on
me, and it's not like we were fucking pen pals. If she stopped talking to me
when she left the city, everything would be pretty much the same as it had
always been.
If anything, it might be better to try something and risk
driving her away. At least I might stand a chance of being able to move on then.
But the more time I spent with her, the more far flung that idea seemed.
I looked towards the fire pit at the front of the restaurant
just in time to see her walk in. She was wearing a little yellow dress and
looked like she was rising up from the flames as she passed by the fire.
I felt my chest swell as she greeted the hostess, and a lump
formed in my throat when they started towards me.
I stood up, feeling weak in the knees as I noticed her smooth legs
sticking out from the bottom of her dress. Then I forced my eyes up to the wide
scoop neckline where two thin straps hung over her collarbones.
I recalled the last time I saw her showing so much skin.
It was at a pool party shortly after our parents got married.
She wasn't really invited to the party. She was just there cause she was
friends with my buddy’s younger sister. They kept to themselves the whole time,
laughing and passing magazines back and forth.
It drove me fucking crazy.
I wanted her to notice me, to watch me like I watched her.
Instead, she just laid there in her ruffled turquoise bikini,
completely oblivious to me. And I swear I couldn’t have been more impressed by
a woman’s beauty than if I were the Greek peasant who first laid eyes on the
Venus de Milo.
"Hi," I said when she walked up.
"Your table is ready," the hostess said. "Right
this way."
I gestured for Jenny to go first and stepped behind her, my
thoughts obsessed by how the flirty bottom of her dress fluttered below her
ass.
Boy was I in trouble.
I would've pulled Jen’s chair out, but the hostess beat me to
it, and as we took our seats, she remarked that we were a very handsome couple.
I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak, but Jenny just nodded
and said thank you, smiling at the woman like we got that all the time as she
accepted her menu.
"Are those for me?" Jenny asked, nodding towards the
flowers in my hand after the hostess left.
I looked at them for a moment like I wasn't sure whose arm I was
staring at before snapping out of it. "They are, yeah," I said,
handing the daisies across the table.
"Thanks," she said, reaching for them. She closed her
eyes as she brought them to her nose, her lashes long against her cheeks.
"What's the occasion?"
I shrugged. "I just figured you might as well get used to
getting flowers since it won't be long before it's happening every night of the
week."
Her eyes sprang into little crescents. "Thanks," she
said, laying them at the edge of the table. "I hope you’re right."
I smiled.
"And I love that they match my dress."
"Which is stunning by the way."
She fixed her eyes on mine. "Stunning?"
"Yeah."
She swallowed.
I leaned back in my chair. "Unless it makes you
uncomfortable for me to say that in which case-"
"What?" She squinted at me. "You take it
back?"
I pursed my lips.
"It's fine," she said.
"Good. Cause I'd be lying if I took it back."
"And for the record-"
I raised my eyebrows.
"Your attention has never made me uncomfortable."
I narrowed my eyes at her.
"What makes me uncomfortable is-"
"What?"
"This thing that hangs over us that makes everything so
weird all the time."
I clenched my jaw.
She opened her menu. "I just wish things were different."
I turned an ear towards her. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
I took a deep breath.
"I mean, I can't say I wish our parents never got married. Cause
they're happy together most of the time and-"
I furrowed my brow. "And what?"
"And I wouldn't begrudge them that." She looked down
at her menu. "Especially after what they've both been through."
I looked at the daisies and then back at Jen, wondering what my
mom would've thought of her. "Of course."
"But I never wanted you to be my stepbrother."
"But I'm so great at it."
She laughed.
The melodic sound made my chest loosen.
"You aren't great at it," she said. "You've never
been anything but a pain in my ass."
"I'm sorry. I should've been a better-"
"You're not listening," she said. "I never wanted
you to be a better stepbrother. I never even wanted a brother."
"What did you want?"
She kept her head tilted down but let her eyes flick up at me.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yeah. I would."
“So.” She smiled. "Tell me about the agency you mentioned
on the phone."
Why couldn't she just admit that she always wanted me, too, and
put me out of my misery?
Why did she have to be so gorgeous and enigmatic and out of
reach?
Or was she trying to tell me she wasn't?
And that she never had been?